


Truth Will Out

by mikes_grrl



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: M/M, character backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-27
Updated: 2007-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:18:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikes_grrl/pseuds/mikes_grrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And at once Frank saw that his prayers were answered. Joining the police force would give Danny legitimacy and protection.” It starts with a terrible scene but ends well, promise!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Will Out

**Author's Note:**

> My very first posted Hot Fuzz fanfic! Whoa. Okay, original story notes as follows:
> 
> -Set a few years before the movie, and a little bit after Irene Butterman’s death. I imagine Danny at about 22 here, but age is not spec. in the story.  
> -This was inspired by two things: Danny’s not very in-depth explanation to Nick about why he joined the force, and Edgar and Simon’s discussion on the commentary about “Danny’s” tattoo and where it came from.  
> -It’s also based on the idea that Sandford might not be the Providence, R.I. of England (‘in joke’ for the American GLBT crowd).  
> -I don’t know what the British would call the police force in a contraction: the police? The force? In the U.S. both are used interchangeably.  
> -I used “policeman” (rather than “police officer”) on purpose as that is what was in currency until Angel comes along. Same thing with “the force” as opposed to “the service.”

Danny went straight from Doyle’s car to work. They had a great time at the music festival, and Danny and his mates made the most of it by staying as late as they possibly could while still making it to jobs in the morning. He knew his father would be terribly mad about the tattoo, but Danny also knew his father would get over it. His father tended to forgive him just about anything, anyway, especially since Danny’s mother died a few years ago.

Danny was in a particularly chipper mood as he not only shagged a lovely hippy girl in the back of Doyle’s car, he had also been shagged by an equally lovely jock boy in one of the pubs they trolled the night before. Danny thought his friends might know about his little side trips “to the other side” but they did not mind if they did, and Danny certainly did not mind either. He had known from the time he was a kid that he was different, and he never doubted or worried about it. The only thing that concerned him was keeping the fact out of the Sandford rumor mill, else his dad might find out. And that, Danny knew, would be the worst. thing. _ever_.

Danny’s job at Somerfield Supermarket was rudimentary at best, stocking shelves. He hated it, but he hated his father nagging him about a career even more. Danny was in his early 20s and enjoying his life for the first time since his mother’s death, and he was not about to ditch his mates and the pub just for something stupid like a real job. Or a relationship, either; he and Amber broke up the week before because both of them found out they were cheating on each other. It was not a huge deal, as they were just good mates more than anything, but the feeling of freedom was intoxicating to Danny. Even a crappy job could not dampen that.

When he finally got off work he stumbled home, exhausted. It was 7pm so he knew his father was probably just now setting out dinner, and Danny hoped that there was enough for him. He called out when he got through the door, but there was no answer. He checked his shirt to make sure the tattoo was not bleeding again, and not showing, and then headed to his room.

He stopped dead at the door, overcome by a terrible feeling of nausea. The room was completely ripped apart, the bed shoved to the side and the furniture all askew. Instinctively, he knew his father did this, and seeing the bed nearly pushed over, he knew why. His father had found his magazines.

“_Fag._”

Danny whirled around to see his father in a white hot rage. He had never seen his father so angry, not in his entire life, and Danny fell against the door frame in shock.

“That what you are? MY SON?” Frank Butterman grabbed his son by the shirt and pulled, ripping it. The tattoo on Danny’s arm suddenly glowed in the murky hallway. His father took one look at the dark, still fresh and glistening ink, and slapped it. Howling in pain, Danny dropped to the floor.

“Dad! No!” Danny started crying before he could even think about it, and that only enraged his father even more.

“Stop crying like a girl! This is what your mother raised? This…” He held up one of the gay porn magazines that Danny recognized only too well. “This is how you honor her memory?” His shouts shook the walls.

“Dad!”

His father walked towards him and Danny scooted backwards in abject terror. “Get out. Get OUT!” His father threw the magazine at Danny’s head, and Danny did not even try to deflect it. Pointing down towards the front door, his father repeated the demand. “Get out. Now.”

Danny ran for his life.

\-----

The first person Danny went to was Doris. She was just a couple of years older and they had grown up together. She thought of him as the incredibly annoying but sweet younger brother her otherwise fertile mother never provided, and while their friendship was a little distant since Doris joined the police, she still regarded him as nearly family. Obviously, so did he.

“Wot happened, then?” She scurried about her kitchen, fixing some tea. Danny sat at her small apartment table, his hands clasped in front of him, head hung down miserably, his tattoo covered with the paper towel that Doris put on it the second he came through the door. He looked terrible, as if he had not slept in days.

“He…di’nt like my tattoo.”

Doris could not help but laugh. “That’s it? Awww Danny he’ll get over that. You know dads got to get on your case fer somethin’. Mine sure does.” She was sure her father would not have ripped off half her shirt, but the Inspector did have one hell of a temper. Everyone knew that.

“He…found some stuff.”

Doris stopped chattering and looked carefully at the boy.

“Eh?”

“Well, some…you know, stuff. Some magazines. Under my bed.” He kept his gaze firmly locked on the salt and pepper shakers.

Doris knew that Frank Butterman was a good man, but a man nonetheless (her own mother told her stories of some of his famous romances from when he was a young and apparently very desirable bachelor), and she could not fathom that he would throw out his beloved son for a couple of girlie rags. Unless…

“Boy stuff, Danny?”

Danny looked up with a mixture of horror and relief on his face. Doris knew for years of his bisexuality, and actually admired the very natural and accepting way he came to terms with it, but it was not something they ever discussed. It could not be something they ever discussed, in Sandford. People just were not allowed to be queer in a small town like this. She knew some of his trips to festivals and London were a bit more lurid than he ever let on – there was that one chap who kept calling Danny’s cell for months, making him blush every time the phone rang. Still, it remained a taboo subject. Until now, apparently.

“You know, Doris?”

“Yea, Danny. I know.” She said it quietly as she sat down across from him, aware that the Inspector finding out about his son’s proclivities was the worst of all possible worlds for both of him and Danny.

Danny’s head went down again. “What am’a gonna do, Doris?” His voice was a little whiny, but the emotions were raw and desperate.

“Aa, we’ll think of som’tin, Danny. Everything’ll be good, just you see.”

Danny looked up with his eyes, his head still bowed, and he was totally adorable. She smiled and he gave her a weak little grin in return.

“Really? You think?”

“I do, love. Now. Some tea, right?”

\-----

Frank Butterman sat in his office, the shock from the fight with Danny the night before still making his hands shake. He fully expected, one day, to find risqué material in his son’s room. It was natural, after all, and when he first found the stash he started looking through it to see if there were any issues he, himself, might enjoy in private. Three magazines down, though, he discovered something so disgusting to him that he hurled the whole pile across the room. When Danny came home from his part time job at Somerfield Supermarket Frank lost his head, completely, and he knew it. He hated losing his temper, because he knew he scared people sometimes when he did. The terrified look on Danny’s face, the utterly devastated expression his son gave him, still bore into Frank’s heart like a drill.

But…gay? His own son? Frank shook his head, and looked up to see Simon Skinner standing outside his office door. He nodded, thinking to himself that this was the worst possible moment this loathsome human being could visit.

“Ah, Inspector Butterman, good morning.” Skinner’s trademark, leering grin scratched against Butterman’s soul. He hated this man for his insincerity, and his ruthlessness. He was the ringleader in taking the NWA into directions that Frank thought were questionable. Although, of course, he supported the idea of cleaning up the town in principle.

“I hear of some more…gyyyypsies out by the Cartwright farm. Do you think…?”

“I’ll get the boys right on it. That would be one of the Andys’ parents place, so I’ll send them over.”

Skinner glanced out at constables Wainwright and Cartwright. “Good, good. Perhaps he might take a more personal interest in removing them, then? Good.”

Frank nodded in agreement, hoping this meeting was concluded. Skinner rubbed his chin and stood still, though, making Frank’s stomach sink.

“This is the third time we’ve had gypsies come in here, Frank. I think we might need to take some more…decisive action.”

Frank cocked his head. “And what would you have in mind then? We can’t do more than chase them off.”

“The Village of the Year contest is starting soon. We really need to ensure our primacy over the other villages, don’t you agree.”

Frank’s mind flashed on the memory of his beloved Irene, and he nodded.

“Perhaps something a bit more, I don’t know, forceful?” Skinner perched on the edge of Frank’s desk and leaned in. Frank stayed motionless in his chair, interested but a little disturbed. His first thought was that he would go along with Skinner’s suggestion, whatever it was, if only to try to keep the man in check. Someone needed too.

\-------

Doris got up in the morning and looked in on Danny first thing. He was snoring loudly on her couch with the TV still on. The night before, he found her stash of Lethal Weapon movies (Mel was just too dreamy for words) and, she suspected, watched all of them. She giggled as she imagined that maybe Danny thought Mel was a bit his type, too, but she knew better. Her tastes ran more locally – the Andes were her latest crush, point of fact – while Danny really seemed to go for the soccer boy type. As far as she could tell.

“Danny?” She nudged him and he opened his eyes. They were very red, but she decided not to ask if he had been crying. No man, however poofy, liked that kind of question.

“Danny, I ‘ave an idea.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “’Kay, Doris.”

“Go make up with Amber.”

Danny laughed, and looked at her as if she were crazy. “Nawwww…”

“No Danny, I mean it!” Doris pointed her finger at him and shook it. “You two were a cute couple and Inspector…you dad really likes her.”

“Aww Doris, we didn’t really click…you know.”

“Danny! I’nt saying marry her! Just, you know, get seen with her. She still likes you and you do like her.”

Danny grinned. “She likes more’n me, Doris.”

“Ehhhhh, she’s young. You only need to get her in the pub, not in her pants, Danny.”

He shrugged. “Didn’ mind being in her pants, really.”

Doris cackled, and that made Danny laugh again. “So maybe some benefits, eh?” She poked him in the ribs.

Danny looked happy for a second, but then turned dark again. “My dad, Doris. He won’t buy it.”

“He will, Danny. He loves you! You’re all he’s got left. Danny, trust me, just make a good show, and he’ll believe it. He has too. I don’t think he’d do anythin’ to really lose you forever.”

\--------

As Frank suspected, it went too far. After the Andes scared the gypsies off, Skinner organized a few of the NWA to meet up and scare them even more that night. Skinner told Frank it was just to slap them around a bit, make the gypsies sorry they ever came their way, but Treacher was too fond of his shotgun. When Frank arrived on the scene in the woods around midnight, there were five dead gypsies and four of the highest ranking members of Sandford standing around acting stupid. Skinner was livid, and Frank matched him pound for pound.

“Dead people are NOT easy to get rid of, Skinner!”

“Well we cannot leave them here!”

“You should have thought of that before this happened!”

“It was not meant to happen!”

“It damn sure was, Skinner! You’ve been out for blood ever since those mimes juggled plates in your parking lot!”

Skinner coiled back, appraising Frank with a deadly stare, but did not answer.

Frank took the break to turn on the other NWA members. Barking orders, and oblivious to their distaste for getting blood on their clothes, he ordered them to load the gypsies into the RV and start up the truck towing it. There was a scramble while the keys were located, but soon the area was cleared of bodies – including a pet dog, Frank noted with distaste – and the truck rolled with Tom Weaver at the wheel. Frank told them about the little-known entrance to the catacombs under the castle, and they all agreed that a medieval graveyard was the perfect place to hide bodies. Or an RV, in this case.

Skinner paced back and forth the whole time, studying Frank.

“You are not reporting this, Butterman?”

“No, Skinner, I’m not. But let’s not make this a habit. I’m the Inspector and I can make a lot disappear, but if you push this too far, someone will find out and we’ll be lucky if the town doesn’t get shot up by the Met.”

“Unlikely, Butterman. But you are right, of course: discretion is the better part of valor.”

Frank doubted that Skinner knew anything concerning valor, but he nodded. When the area was completely cleared and Skinner gone, Frank sat down on a log nearby and rubbed his temples, thinking not about the newly and perhaps unfairly murdered gypsies, but about Danny.

\-----

“So it’s a date, then?” Doris leaned in after Danny hung up.

“Yeah, Doris. I just don’t think this will work.” Danny looked his phone, trying to remember what he just said to Amber. She was a nice girl but not all that interesting. She did not even like action movies.

“It only has to work for a bit, now, love. Next you need to get your own place. You know, all grown up an’ shit.” They both laughed at the joke. ‘Gettin all grown up and shit’ was an old and favored teenage response to anything requiring some form of responsibility that they used (a lot) during school. “You got to show him he’s wrong, right? So, love, you need your own place.”

“He threw me out anyway, I guess.” Danny mumbled.

“Daniel Butterman! Listen to me. Don’t act like you got thrown out. Act like…act like…”

“Like a man.” Danny sneered, a hint of genuine anger in his voice.

“Not what I meant, love. I don’t care what you are, I like a bit o’ fun too…” She stopped, afraid of revealing too much. “It’s about your dad and what he thinks of you. You show him good, see? Show him you can take care of yourself and date a girl all proper like, and he’ll come around.”

“You think?” Hope appeared on his face again.

“Yes, love, I do. Now: a job. I mean a real job, love.”

Danny groaned.

\----------

The next day Frank cancelled all meetings – there were none scheduled, but he made a point of saying so anyway – and told everyone that he was not to be disturbed. By now, most of the town knew that he kicked Danny out, and he just hoped beyond reason that no one knew why. He closed his door, the blinds, and his eyes, and sat still in his chair, thinking.

The worst thing Frank could think of was for Danny to move to London. No, he reconsidered: the worst would be for Danny to stay in Sandford, and get found out. Skinner and more than few of the NWA already stated their antagonism against homosexuals, which they seemed to put on par with gypsies and mimes. After the events of the night before, Frank was beginning to realize that anybody unfortunate enough to antagonize the NWA was on a one-way road to oblivion. The killings bothered Frank some, although not as much as he suspected they should; what bothered him, in fact what terrified him to his bones, was the idea of Danny getting targeted by the NWA because of his…interests. Anything was possible, now that Skinner changed the rules.

Someone knocked on the door. Frank did not answer at first, but the person knocked again and Frank finally told them to come in.

Doris walked in, a bit hesitantly. Frank really liked the girl. She was young and rambunctious and reminded him of himself when he first joined the police, a bit wild but smart.

“Inspector?”

“Yes, Doris, come in.” He waved her to a chair.

She looked a little upset and he nodded at her again.

“Danny’s been staying with me, Inspector.”

Frank’s face fell, and he knew it, because Doris scooted as far back in the chair as she could.

“Tell you what’s going on, did he?”

Doris visibly gulped for air. “Only that you don’t like his tattoo.”

“Mmmm.” He could not tell if she was lying, but he was not about to try and find out.

“I think it’s more than that, Inspector.” She gulped again as Frank’s eyes narrowed on her.

“You do?”

“Yea…I mean, yes sir. I think…I think you’re worried about him. I think he’s just a little lost, see? Maybe just needs to figure things out.”

Relieved at the direction of the conversation, Frank did not have the heart to be angry with her. “Maybe, Doris. Maybe.” He rubbed his face again.

“He’s out looking for a place right now.”

Frank did not say anything.

“He wants to prove that he can take care of himself, right? And I know he made a date with that nice girl he was seeing last month…” She trailed off before taking another gulp of air. “I was thinking, sir, maybe he…he might…I dunno…just that…well…”

“Doris…”

“Join the force!” She nearly yelled.

“Join?”

“Right, you know, he’s a good kid. And maybe if you took him under your wing and…well…gave him some help he’d do good here. I’d help him with the tests and all, I mean, he’s like a brother you know sir and…I think he’d make a fine policeman, sir.” Emboldened, she sat forward on the chair and looked directly at him.

And at once Frank saw that his prayers were answered. Joining the police force would give Danny legitimacy and protection. Skinner would never dare take on a policeman, much less Frank’s own son. If he could just get Danny to join him, Frank knew he would always be able to take care of his son, and protect him, no matter what. He thought maybe police work might even distract the boy from other “interests”…a father could hope. Frank’s smile grew to a grin and Doris looked like she was going to faint.

“Yes, Doris, that is a fine idea. Maybe you could help me convince him of that, eh?

EPILOGUE:  
Six months later, Danny and Amber were not dating, but Danny was wholly devoted to his job as a policeman and did not spend much time dating (or even shagging) anyone. His new place was small but he already changed the dining area into a video library by building a bunch of shelves. His collection barely filled two of those shelves but he was delighted with the idea that there were so many more movies to buy and watch. After a couple of months of being polite, his father stopped being so distant and Danny loved that more than anything. Now his father even invited him over for Sunday dinner, sometimes with Doris, sometimes not. It was time that Danny cherished and hoped would never end. He felt so proud to have his father’s love and, particularly now, respect. He also liked the uniform, which Doris swore made him look very tough. The work was boring and the Andes were twats, but Danny enjoyed going to the pub in the evenings with his new policeman mates (and Doris), and watching his cop movies at night.

Sometimes, he even forgot how lonely he was.

####


End file.
